


Ain't No Grave

by crimsonepitaph



Series: 2017 Writing Project [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Gen, Sam Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-25
Updated: 2017-02-25
Packaged: 2018-09-26 22:25:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9924839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonepitaph/pseuds/crimsonepitaph
Summary: Dean dies and Sam unravels.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Author's note #1:** As always, the biggest thank you to Betty (borgmama1of5), who, in addition to making this so fun, is a kickass beta, improving every story!
> 
>  **Author's note #2:** This is the first work in my 2017 writing project. This year, it will probably be snippets and short stories. I want to write more, and especially explore Sam and Dean's headspaces in ways I haven't before, for starters. The rest, I will figure out as I go along!
> 
>  **Author's note #3:** Title from the song _Ain't no grave_ (to hold my body down) by Johnny Cash.

Sam tries to remember what the case had been about. The one where Dean died. Sam doesn’t recall. They hadn’t gotten that far.

Dean died in an interrogation-turned-fistfight.

One ill-timed punch, the corner of a hardwood table, and the end to the Winchester death-cheating streak of luck.

Sam still can’t comprehend.

Then, ten seconds after it happened … now – his brain refuses to accept what’s in front of him, what the tightness in his chest means.

_Dean’s alive. Of course he is. He has to be. He can’t be dead… he can't die. Or, at least, not like this._

Sam does remember shooting the guy who killed his brother.

He’s pretty sure he was human, but right now, it doesn’t seem to matter much to his conscience.

After one day alone, Sam’s unsure of a lot of things.

Time stretching in front of him – that’s the only given. The scraping sound of the glass hitting the table after another round of scotch.

The emptiness, the dark.

These are familiar.

The air feels too heavy, pulsing against his skin. His body feels like lead, like it isn’t meant to move again. It’s only an anchor for his mind, a weight that reminds Sam he’s still part of reality.

If it would hurt at least – but he doesn’t feel anything.

He walks through the bunker hallways, wanders until he finds the door he’s looking for. He struggles across the room – his feet don’t seem to want to listen to him.

Sam collapses in a drunken heap on Dean’s bed with photos still in his hand, and maybe he feels something, but Sam couldn’t tell you what.

Anger, despair, sadness, a simple will to not exist … all, and none, because Sam’s good at lying to himself about what his mind is telling him.

 

 

~

 

 

Sam spends the next weeks reading.

Thousand pages of old, dusty books, poorly redacted articles, and everything in between. The table in the bunker’s main room turns into an uncomfortable pillow with the wooden chair a bed, and the days turn into endless strings of hours marked only by the ticking hands of a clock breaking the silence.

Some days are bearable, and some days Sam walks into the kitchen and starts to say hello to Dean.

Sam eats when he can’t stand the burning feeling in his stomach, sleeps when he can’t keep his eyes open, and showers when Castiel visits, lets him know that he isn’t fit for company.

The angel makes his own inquiries about a way to bring back Dean.

Sam asks, for a while. But three weeks in, he doesn’t need to anymore, Castiel’s blue eyes say everything.

There’s failed attempts at comforting words and long nights spent in silence with beers that the angel doesn’t drink.

 

 

~

 

 

The first case Sam takes after Dean’s death is easy.

Vampires, not much of a fight, Sam’s need to kill something still burning. It’s not enough, he busts a knuckle on Impala’s steering wheel after.

It’s harder to go back to research when his hope of finding something is dwindling.

But he does, because Sam Winchester doesn’t give up, because the guy who spent centuries in hell insists he has to keep going.

Sometimes Sam’s just too stubborn to stop.

 

 

~

 

 

The second job after Dean doesn’t go as well. 

A vengeful spirit, more vengeful than Sam had planned for. It throws Sam through the rail of a second story staircase.

Sam falls without having time to think about anything.

When his body hits the floor – that’s when it all floods through him. The pain.

Minutes of consciousness  feel like years.

That first instinct, to push back – dull, indistinct. Always keep fighting.

But he can’t. His body, numb from the pain, doesn’t allow any movement, and relieves Sam from the choice he doesn’t let himself make every time he thinks about it.

Sam closes his eyes with no illusion for peace.

Dean’s voice threads through the chaotic spiral of his thoughts.

Sam can’t tell if it’s saying hang on or greeting him.

 

 

~

 

 

Sam survives, works to convince himself every morning that he’s grateful.

He spends three weeks in a coma, another eight in physical therapy in a nice, clean rehab facility.

Sam even makes friends. Garry, amputee kid with temporary residence. Gina, tough-ass physical therapist. He’s almost tempted to stay.

To forget and find a new way to live. Gina, with her soft kisses, makes it feel possible.

But Sam remembers the dog, and Amelia, and Dean’s eyes when he realized what Sam did while Dean was in Purgatory. If there’s a chance this time, Sam’s not messing with it.

He leaves without a word when his legs are strong enough to support him, wobbles to the dirty Impala waiting for him in a motel parking lot, and drives until Gary’s smile in the PT gym is an echo of a memory.

 

 

~

 

 

He finds Castiel in the bunker arguing with Dean.

Sam spends minutes in the doorway, watching. Studying Dean, listening to his voice and absorbing every word that passes his lips.

Castiel notices him before Sam has a chance to decide if his brother is real. The angel’s eyes go wide and then Dean is in his face.

 _Sam_.

He hasn’t been called that for a while.

He was Mark for Gina and Gary. John Doe, before that.

He tries to say his brother’s name but the word catches in his throat.

“I found something,” Castiel says.

 _I have, too_ , Sam thinks.

Sam grips tight, touches, breaths in. It’s real. _Dean_ ’s real.

And Sam … Sam’s almost whole. Happy.

It’s easy to let Castiel take the win.


End file.
